


Sleeping Easy

by MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acephobia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anniversary, Asexual Character, Asexual Newt Scamander, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, corrective rape, filth disguised as fluff, partner rape, terrible understandings of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 01:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Percival gazes at Newt’s sleeping form in the moonlight filtering through the curtains, taking in his perfect, scarred skin.  It’s only a few touches at first.  Fingers tracing over Newt’s chest, and then brushing Newt’s hair away from his face, and touching their lips together.  Newt had been clear - he cared for Percival, wanted to be with him, but not…withhim.  Percival understood that it didn’t mean Newt cared for him any less, even if he didn’t quite understand the rest of it.This way Newt never even has to think about it, and Percival still gets what he needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not fluff. It may at first look like fluff, but it is not. Please read the tags and know what you’re getting into.

When Percival walks into the bedroom Newt is already asleep under the sheets.  He gazes at Newt’s sleeping form in the moonlight filtering through the curtains, taking in his perfect, scarred skin.  Percival has memorized every one of those scars.  They cross his chest and shine in the dim light, giving lie to the air of innocence Newt sometimes projects.  He’s seen something of the world, and he’s even more beautiful for it.  Percival slips under the blankets and lays an arm over Newt’s side, curls in around him, pressing his face into Newt’s hair and breathing in his scent.  He slips an arm under Newt’s shoulders, encircling his sleeping body.

There was a time when Percival hadn’t considered something like this plausible in his life.  He was always at work, always a bit distant and a bit too professional for that sort of relationship, never exactly the type of person who came to mind when thinking about affection.  And then Tina had introduced him to this dashing young Englishman, a bit awkward and a bit shy, a bit too caught up in his work and a bit out of touch with the people around him.  And they’d talked.  Laughed over dinner with Tina, Queenie, and Jacob, had a drink after, and Mr Scamander had seemed surprised in a way that suggested he wasn’t used to others enjoying his company.  He was charming in an offhand way, eccentric and never showing all that much concern for what anybody thought, but somehow still managing to seem as though when he cared for someone, he cared very deeply.  They carried on like that, talking across the rooms of the Goldstein sisters’ apartment, always in a group and always managing to diverge into some side conversation as the evening wore on.  After one too many inquiries of when Mr Scamander might come round to dinner again Queenie sat them both down together and had it out.  And now Newt is in his arms, sleeping in his bed, his writing desk set up in the sitting room with his case beside it. 

Newt had been clear, once it seemed their relationship might progress.  Newt cared for him, wanted to be with him, but not… _with_ him.  Not in a physical way.  Newt’s eyes had flicked up at him from underneath his endearingly floppy mess of hair, face tense with worry, and Percival had taken him by the shoulders and told him how important he was, that they would work it out.  The relief that flooded Newt’s face nearly broke his heart.  Percival understood that it didn’t mean Newt cared for him any less, even if he didn’t quite understand the rest of it.  He wasn’t quite sure how anyone could go through life without having the desire, even if it wasn’t acted on.  Newt likes to sit close to him, likes Percival’s embrace and to rest his head on his shoulder.  He ducks away if Percival leans in to kiss him, or if his hands wander in any particularly suggestive direction.

It’s when Newt has had a bit too much to drink after an evening at the Goldstein sisters’, when they come home and Newt falls asleep fully clothed on the bed and when Percival has to undress him, that he gets the idea to compromise.

It’s only a few touches at first.  Fingers tracing over Newt’s chest, mapping out each knot of scar tissue, feeling the subtle curve of his waist.  And then leaning in once he gets Newt properly into bed, brushing Newt’s hair away from his face and touching their lips together.  It’s just for a moment, closed mouthed and quick.  And maybe he wouldn’t do it if he hadn’t also had a bit to drink, but he dips his head back in and uses his tongue to part Newt’s lips.  His breath is stale with wine and his lips are soft, mouth wet and warm, and Percival has wondered for so long what it would feel like.

This way Newt never even has to think about it, and Percival still gets what he needs.

Today was a special day for them.  One year sense Queenie made them get their acts together, one year of closeness and learning and bonding, a year of awkwardness and stiffness and growth, and Percival wouldn’t have it any other way.  They hadn’t done anything particularly grand to celebrate, at least not by anyone else’s standards.  Neither of them were much for big romantic gestures, and surprises tended to make Newt uncomfortable anyway.  They’d marked the occasion in their own way, making time to spend in each other’s company.  They walked around central park at dusk after the work day ended, Percival made dinner just a little nicer than usual, and Newt pulled a blanket snug around them as they read on the couch together.

Now Percival holds Newt’s body in his arms, heavy with the sleeping draught, glad of the chance to stroke him in all the ways he never gets to when he’s awake.  He runs his hand over Newt’s chest, lightly circling his nipples until they peak into stiff little nubs.  Percival loves Newt’s nipples, loves the way they feel under his fingers and under his tongue.  He kneads at the muscle of Newt’s chest until he lets out a soft, sleepy little moan.  Newt may shy away when he’s awake, but Percival can never get enough of the way Newt’s body responds when he’s asleep.  He likes to think he’s making Newt feel good, even if Newt isn’t exactly aware of it.  And Newt always does respond to Percival massaging his chest, never fails to let out quiet breaths or moans or sometimes even lean clumsily into the touch.

Percival smiles in the dark, ducks his head down to kiss at the base of Newt’s neck.  He leaves little kisses, just lips and a hint of teeth, all the way from Newt’s shoulder to his ear, and Newt squirms a little, adjusting on his pillow.  When Newt is relaxed like this, curled up on the bed and just starting to flush, the only word Percival can think of to describe him is _adorable_.  Percival draws his hand up to stroke over Newt’s neck and the hollow of his throat.  He brushes gently over Newt’s cheek, his lips.

Percival cups Newt’s chin and carefully turns his head, mindful of the angle, and leans over Newt’s shoulder to kiss him.  Newt’s lips are the slightest bit dry, rough from time spent outdoors, but so soft too.  Percival licks over his mouth, parts Newt’s lips just slightly with his tongue.  He tastes good, he always does.  Percival pushes his tongue in deeper, feels Newt’s mouth fall open under his attention, feels his own mouth light up.  He kisses Newt deeply, passionately, in the way that he imagines would make Newt moan and melt into his arms were he awake to do so.  He thinks about what it would be like, to feel the vibration of Newt’s moans on his lips, to feel him pressing against Percival, relaxing into the moment, going loose and boneless in his embrace.

Percival could spend an eternity exploring Newt’s mouth, learning the taste and feel of every part of it, working out exactly the best way to kiss him.  He’s spent some nights doing just that, feeling out his mouth with lips and tongue until Newt’s lips are red and swollen.

Percival pulls back eventually, gazes at Newt’s shining lips and his still-parted mouth as his head rests on the pillow.  Percival kisses his lips again softly, kisses under his jaw.  He trails his hand down Newt’s chest, circles his nipples again and strokes over his ribs, pressing his chest in close against Newt’s back, curling in around him.  He just strokes over Newt’s hips for a few moments, focusing on the feel of Newt’s skin under his fingers.  It’s nice, so nice to be with Newt like this.  His hand trails down to Newt’s thigh, up to his waist, back and forth in gliding movements up and down Newt’s body, just savoring the feel of skin against skin, drifting gently in the darkness.

His thoughts are interrupted by the little half formed whine Newt makes when Percival’s fingers find that spot right at the dip of his waist, and Percival’s breathing catches.  He stops his rhythmic stroking and works his fingers right at that spot, running them back and forth with the lightest graze of his fingernails until Newt makes that sound again.  Percival groans in response.  He can feel his arousal slipping over him, cock starting to fill at Newt’s sleepy, unconscious noises of pleasure.

Percival slips his hand between Newt’s legs, stroking along his thighs and around the base of his cock.  Newt never gets fully hard, cock usually staying soft even under Percival’s touches, but Percival likes to touch him there anyway.  He smooths his hand over Newt’s hips, his ass, fingers working down.  He adjusts slightly, pushing one of Newt’s legs up so that he can reach better, rolling Newt a little farther onto his stomach.  Newt’s body is loose and pliant, shifting to wherever Percival positions him without trouble.  It’s gorgeous, the way Newt’s body relaxes for him.  He massages Newt’s ass and the insides of his thighs, loving the little sounds it draws out, the half attempted little movements back into Percival’s hands as he presses deep into the sensitive skin.  The light brushes may make Newt shiver and whine, but he seems to like deep pressure best.  That’s what gets him searching intuitively for more, gets him making the deep breathy moans that Percival loves so much.

Percival roles over, sorry to lose contact with Newt even if only briefly, and fishes the jar of slick out of the bottom drawer of his nightstand.  When he touches Newt again his fingers are thoroughly coated in it, and he slowly slips his fingers down over Newt’s hole.  He starts by just rubbing, soft and gentle, little circles over Newt’s opening.  He always takes it slow, wants to make sure that Newt is fully prepared.  The last thing he would ever want to do is hurt Newt.  He certainly doesn’t mind drawing it out either, especially on such an important night.  He wants to enjoy it, to appreciate it fully.

By the time he’s ready to slide a finger in Newt’s breathing is coming short and quick, and he’s pressing back instinctively.  Percival strokes his other hand through Newt’s hair, wants to tell him to trust him, to relax and open up.  He hopes that eventually Newt will realize how nice it can feel to be with someone, how intimate and how pleasurable.  And Newt does like it, Percival can feel it in every tremor of his body, hear it in every breath and moan.  He knows Newt isn’t ready for that yet, but he doesn’t mind giving it time.  He waited his whole life to find someone like Newt, he can wait a little longer.

His finger slides in easily, and he moans into the back of Newt’s shoulder.  Newt never tenses up, always takes it so perfectly, and Percival doesn’t know how he got so lucky.  He presses in slowly, not wanting to go too fast, but once the tip of his finger is past the entrance of Newt’s hole he wants nothing more than to feel inside him.  He presses in deeper, deeper, stroking in and out, loosening up Newt’s beautiful hole.  A high sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, gets caught in Newt’s throat, and Percival has to take a moment to close his eyes.

He adds a second finger, and then a while later a third, and by now there are high, desperate sounds escaping on Newt’s every breath.  Percival loves this point, when Newt’s body is unrestrained and Percival can see how good it is for him, when Percival is tight with anticipation and want, fully hard now between the noises Newt makes and how good he knows it will feel to be inside him.

He adds more slick to make sure it’s comfortable for Newt, and then he pulls his fingers out.  Newt’s body twitches and Percival finds himself murmuring to him though he knows Newt can’t hear.

“It’s all right baby, it’s all right.  Soon now, so soon, you’re so lovely.”

He lines up his cock, feels Newt’s soft hole right against the tip of it.  He wraps his arms around Newt, breathing right against his cheek, takes a deep, steadying breath, and when he can’t wait a moment linger he pushes in.  He feels the friction on his cock, such a good, steady pressure as he slides into Newt, and nothing has ever felt so good as being inside him.

“Oh, so good, you feel so good.  Is that good for you?”

He doesn’t expect an answer of course, but he doesn’t need one.  Newt is squirming in his sleep, little movements that make him move on Percival’s cock as he slides in, hands opening and closing in half formed attempts to grab at the pillows or the sheets.

“That’s right, let me – let me move in you, oh…”

Percival has his hips pressed close against Newt’s ass, and god, Newt feels so good around his cock.  He’s loose enough that it’s an easy fit, no need for roughness, but still tight enough that it’s driving Percival out of his mind.  He pulls his hips back and _oh god_ , the warmth spreading out from his cock, the jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, it’s the most amazing feeling.  He fucks Newt slowly, deeply, lovingly, wanting it to be good for him too even if Newt isn’t ready yet to know he wants it.  And he does want it, he wants it just as much as Percival, he’s flushed all the way down to his chest and the moans coming out of his mouth are simply obscene.  He’s so unrestrained when he sleeps, so unguarded, just letting his body do as it will.  That’s part of what Percival loves about this.  It’s not that Newt particularly cares what others think of him usually, tends to just do what makes sense to him and let others follow along if they so choose, but to see him with all his walls down is spectacular.

Percival’s getting close and it feels so incredible, he doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to end this connection he has with Newt.  But Newt’s little gasps and his perfect hole are carrying him right up to the edge, and then Newt rocks back into him with the most beautiful _uh_ sound and Percival pulls out just in time, coming across Newt’s hip.

He lies there for long moments, pressed close to Newt’s back, just breathing as they both come down from it.  It’s incredible how close he feels to Newt in these moments, the endorphins still buzzing through his system and his mind fuzzy around the edges, a little dizzy and euphoric.

His head settles eventually, and the buzz in his body dies down.  He Vanishes his come, takes care of the slick, leaving Newt clean and fresh.  Percival pulls the blankets up over them and spends a long time listening to Newt’s breathing.  Here in the afterglow the warmth of Newt’s body is soothing, his presence reassuring and calming, making Percival feel as though the only things he has to worry about are here in this room.  He closes his eyes and strokes Newt’s hair as he falls asleep.

Percival wakes before Newt the next morning, as he usually does when Newt’s had the sleeping draught.  He makes coffee, brings the newspaper back to bed, sits propped against the pillows beside Newt.  He’s still so peaceful, hair tousled and shining in the morning light, and Percival smiles at him.  Newt cracks his eyes open, squinting against the light, and when he sees Percival beside him he pulls himself up to curl against his side and shut his eyes again.  Percival has a cup of coffee for him when he’s ready, and then Percival will go to work and Newt will tend to his creatures, perhaps finish the next chapter of his book.  They’ll see each other again in the evening, eat dinner together, do their separate routines but with the comfort of sharing the same space.

Of all the ways Percival thought his life would turn out, after all the nights spent alone working late at the office, all the missed connections and the self-imposed protection of solitude, he never thought he would be so fortunate as this.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on  mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ! :)


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